


Heart and Soul

by blueabsinthe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve reminds Vincent of something he was sure he had forgotten after losing in the  2011 Eastern Conference Final.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart and Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quenchmysoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quenchmysoul/gifts).



> **Warnings:** rimming, fingering, oral sex, barebacking, dirty talk.
> 
> Written during the 2011 Stanley Cup Finals. Posting for archiving purposes.

He'd meant to leave earlier, but he'd had no idea the meetings and press conference would go on as long as they had. Steve loosened his tie, and swung his suit jacket over his shoulder as he made his way to his car. He had just hit 'send' on his text message screen when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Guy eyeing him. 

"Leaving so soon?" Guy asked. 

Steve averted his eyes, staring at his cell phone's screen, as if staring would miraculously make a reply appear on screen. He kind of had a feeling he wouldn't get a response. "Something I have to take care of," he replied, tucking his phone back into his pocket. 

"Too bad. I was going to see if you were going to the dinner with the rest of the coaching staff." 

"Rain check, Guy," Steve replied, offering him what he hoped passed for an apologetic smile. 

"And it hardly ever rains in Tampa," Guy noted, sarcasm heavy as Steve climbed into his car. 

"You know what I mean," Steve replied, as he started up his car and pulled out of the parking lot.

-»«-

By all accounts, Steve could easily have turned off his annoyingly perky GPS, seeing as how the twist of streets were not as complicated as he originally thought, but the sound fell into the background as he navigated Bayshore to the Davis Island Bridge. This may be going above and beyond the call of General Manager, but when he saw the look in Vince's eyes after he had shaken all the Bruins players hands, it struck a chord in his system. Maybe the exhaustion finally showed on Vince's face, or maybe it was disbelief. But, Steve had a feeling it was something else. A feeling he knew all too well.

"You have arrived at your destination," the chirpy GPS voice said, effectively pulling him away from his thoughts. 

He had been so engrossed in trying to read into Vince's look that he barely realized he had pulled up in front of Vince's house. 

Steve pulled out his phone and sighed when he saw there was no response. He climbed out of his car, and headed up the walkway. Granted, coming all this way may be a long shot, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He tucked his phone away again and rang the bell. 

He heard the shuffling of feet before the door was opened. Vince was shirtless, a towel draped across his shoulders. His skin was smooth, bronzed, and flawless. He blinked as he registered that his GM was standing on his doorstep, before he opened his door a bit wider. 

Wordlessly, Steve crossed the threshold. "You home alone?" 

"Caroline took Victoria to West Palm Beach for a few days." Vince ran a hand through his damp hair. "I'm supposed to meet them after … well, y'know." 

"After locker clean out." 

Steve caught Vince's eye, and held it as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants. "Did you get my text?" 

Vince shrugged, turned his back to Steve and headed towards the kitchen. Steve followed. 

"So, I'll take that as a yes, then?" 

"You're wasting your time, Steve," Vince replies, as he comes to a stop in front of his sink. 

"Am I?" 

"I don't want to talk about the game," Vince says. His back still to his General Manager. He stares out the window above his kitchen sink, his upper body leaning slightly towards the last fading rays of sunlight. 

Vince thinks this is one of the many things he will miss if he ever leaves Tampa. Davis Island sunsets are a thing of beauty. The sky a lavish blend of sherbet pink, lilac, and orange. He can see Steve's outline in the window. Watching the way the crisp lines of his dress shirt cling to his form. 

Steve shoves his arms into his pockets and shrugs. "You can listen then." Vince watches as Steve crosses the floor towards him, and knows he should stop him, but doesn't. He can feel Steve as he presses against him, effectively pinning Vince to the granite. Steve curls a hand around Vince's shoulder, letting his palm press down lightly against Vince's chest. "You are the heart and soul of the team, Vincent," he breathes against his ear. 

Eventually, Vince's mind catches up to his body. He thought those feelings were gone. After all, he and Brad hadn't … in years. He slides Steve's hand away from his chest, and moves his head away slightly from Steve's mouth. "You don't know me that well, so don't pretend like you do." 

Vince hears as Steve scoffs, and before he can respond, he feels his body being turned around. Steve presses his hands against Vince's shoulders, and uses his hips to pin him against the sink. The look Steve is giving him is fierce, so fierce it makes Vince forget he's taller than his General Manager. 

"You're wrong," Steve starts, pressing his hands down harder on Vince's shoulders. "I know the loss affected you more than you would ever let any of your teammates know. I know you were the youngest NHL player to ever gain the captaincy, surpassing my record. Only Crosby surpassed your record." He let his stare linger on Vince's, taking in every emotion that flickered across Vince's face. "I know Tortorella stripped you of the captaincy as an example." 

Steve finally let up his grip on Vince's shoulders, and took a step back, eyeing Vince speculatively. "Y'know, in some ways, you remind me of me." 

"How so?" 

Steve shrugged. "There's the obvious. The captaincy, the position we play, or played, in my case." He reached a hand out to smooth Vince's hair. "Then there's the more hidden traits. The drive. The hunger. The desire." Steve pressed a hand to where Vince knew the 'C' on his jersey was stitched, and he felt his pulse quicken at the warmth Steve's palm sent through his system. "Wearing the 'C' is an honour, and a privilege. Something that every player wants, but only few will get. Each Captain in the league has something that is unique, but there's one thing that remains the same when the ice is cleaned, and the arena is empty." 

Vince's breath hitches slightly as Steve's breath tickles his bare skin. "What's that?" he manages to get out, his hands braced on the edge of the counter, as Steve steps closer. 

"It's what I said to you earlier," Steve says, leaning his head in, so he could whisper against Vince's ear. "Heart and soul." He traced the outline of a 'C' on Vince's chest as he breathed his next words, "And, you, Vince, have both." 

That's what ultimately did it, Vince realized. Steve's breath as it tickled his ear, the way his finger was light but insistent against his chest, and the warmth his body was giving off finally caused the last bit of resolve Vince had in his system to snap. He grabbed Steve by the back of his neck, pulling his face up to his. 

"I still don't want to talk about the game," Vince growls, before he brings his lips down on Steve's in a bruising kiss. 

Steve moans into his mouth, and, without breaking the kiss, lets his hands scramble over Vince's flesh, before they settle for gripping his shoulders. Vince lets his hands settle on Steve's hips, and Steve is all hard muscle and sinew under his palms, the material of Steve's too-expensive dress pants pressing against Vince's slightly calloused palms. Vince lets his fingers untuck Steve's shirt, so that he can slide his palms past the material, to grip Steve's ass. Steve grinds against Vince, and he listens as Vince hisses and grinds back against him. 

"Oh fuck," Vince murmurs, "I almost forgot how good this feels." 

Steve chuckles as he drags his teeth across Vince's earlobe and down his neck, nipping lightly at the thin skin around Vince's collarbone. "Brad Richards?" 

Vince pulls back slightly, and raises an eyebrow. 

"I told you I know you," Steve gasps out, as Vince grinds their lower bodies together. 

And then there's no more time for them to talk, before Steve's pushing Vince's pants down his legs and off. Vince is already hard, Steve realizes as he runs the pad of his thumb down the length of Vince's cock. He hears as Vince lets out his breath in a low whoosh. 

"Relax … this is just the beginning." Steve slides down until he's on his knees in front of Vince. 

Vince brings one of his legs up to rest on Steve's shoulder and he jerks his hips slightly as Steve's breath ghosts over his cock. 

"So eager," Steve murmurs against Vince's thigh, letting his tongue paint patterns on his flesh. "But I'm not doing _that_ just yet." 

Vince frowns at Steve's comment, before he feels Steve's tongue moving past the line of his cock, past his balls, before he feels the first slide of Steve's tongue against his ass. 

"Oh," Vince breathes, and groans loudly when he feels Steve's tongue sinking slightly into the opening. "Fuck. Shit. Steve …" 

"Shh," Steve orders, as he lets his fingers spread Vince's hole, flicking his tongue inside, and he feels Vince's body jerk, and feels as he lets his leg slide to the floor. Steve hums, sending a hot breath into Vince, his tongue curving to lap at the sides, and he feels Vince's legs shaking, his hands as they curl tightly in his hair. Vince is moaning, his body arching, pushing him closer to Steve's tongue. 

"Oh Jesus fuck. Fuck, that feels so good." 

"Does it?" Steve asks, pulling away slightly to look up at Vince. 

"Fuck, yes. Don't stop." 

Steve smirks. "Oh, I have no intention of stopping, just yet." He nips at Vince's thigh, before he gets back to what he was doing. His tongue is more forceful this time around, probing, and licking, until Vince is tugging on his hair. 

"I want to see you come undone," Steve murmurs, not entirely sure if Vince heard him, but not really caring either way. 

"God yes. Fuck. Shit. _Baiser._ Steve … fuck …" 

Steve sticks his tongue back in Vince's hole, as he raises his hand, fumbling blindly until Vince catches on, and sucks Steve's fingers into his mouth. Vince swirls his tongue around the digits, and nips lightly at the knuckles as Steve lets his fingers slide from Vince's mouth. 

"Relax. I'm just getting started." Steve moves his face away from Vince's hole, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. Before Vince can utter anything, Steve sucks Vince's cock into his mouth in a hot, wet drawing pull. His fingers scissor Vince open as he sucks hard on Vince's cock. 

Vince arches his back, bringing one of his hands up to bite on the knuckles, as he lets out a strangled cry. "Oh Jesus fucking Christ. What are you - oh fuck. Oh god, oh god, oh god." 

Steve figures the stimulation will cause Vince to come soon, but he swirls his tongue over the head of Vince's cock, pressing his fingers against Vince's prostate lightly. Vince is swearing in a mixture of French and English, short clipped sentences that make no sense, and oh, God, Steve is so hard he wonders how he can even still think. 

"Oh, shit … keep this up and I'm gonna -" 

"I wouldn't dream of it," Steve purrs, as he lets Vince's cock slide from his mouth, his fingers still buried in Vince's ass. "I have plans for you." 

Vince feels as Steve slides his fingers out, and he's pulling Steve to his feet, tearing blindly at Steve's shirt, and pants, stopping only to let his hands stop shaking. "Naked. Goddamnit, I need to see you naked. Now." 

Steve chuckles as Vince finally manages to get him undressed. Vince backs away from the sink and walks backward until he bumps up against the kitchen table. 

Steve flicks his tongue over Vince's collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin, and hears as Vince hisses, and tugs his head closer. 

"I think you're ready now," Steve murmurs, pulling away slightly. "Turn around for me." 

Vince does as instructed and is rewarded when he feels Steve's tongue sliding down his spine, and across his hole again. "Fuck. Would you just … just fuck me already?" Vince begs, his cheek pressed against the wood of the table. 

"Mm, say it again," Steve whispers, pressing a kiss between Vince's shoulder blades. 

"Oh, fuck. You want me to beg, Steve? Fuck me, please. Just fuck me already." 

Steve nips at Vince's ear, letting his tongue paint the lobe, before he lines his cock up, the head glistening with pre-come. "That's more like it." Vince is already stretched from his earlier teasing, that he slides right in. Steve listens as Vince gasps out, and he presses his full length in, slowly. 

"God fucking damnit," Vince grits out, "harder. Fuck!" 

"Something like this?" Steve asks, as he pulls out and shoves back in, hitting Vince's prostate as he does so. 

Vince slaps his hand against the table, as he temporarily sees stars at Steve's movement. "Yes, fuck. Just like that." 

"Did Brad ever fuck you like this?" Steve asks, leaning over Vince's form, one hand braced on the table, the other curled around Vince's waist, as he grinds against him. "Did he know what you like? What buttons to press?" Steve lets his hand slide down Vince's dick, and is rewarded with Vince shoving back against him. 

"Did he fill you like this? Did he make you scream, and say fucking dirty things?" 

"Oh fuck," Vince moans. 

"Yeah. You like that?" Steve asks, nipping at Vince's ear, as he thrusts into him repeatedly, one of his hands gripping Vince's cock, jerking him hard. 

"Yes! Oh fuck. Oh god, oh god, oh god!" 

Steve grits his teeth, and it takes all his self-control as he pulls out, and helps Vince stand up to his full height. "I want to see you when you come," he says, before pushing Vince down so he's lying on the flat surface. Steve slides back in, noticing the flicker that crosses Vince's eyes at the movement. Vince's hair is soft, and falling in attractive disarray. The head of his cock glistening with pre-come, which Steve notes is now sliding down the length, a stray drop landing on his stomach. 

Vince groans as he feels Steve driving into him over and over. Eventually, Steve curls his hand around Vince's dick, and tugs lightly. Vince comes then, his come coating Steve's hand and bare stomach, his hand pressed against his mouth to stop from crying out. Vince feels as Steve thrusts up into him four more times, before he's coming, his eyes closed, his hands gripping Vince's shoulders as he gasps out Vince's name. 

It's a long while before they finally attempt to move. Steve shudders as he lets himself slide out of Vince slowly. By the time Vince manages to get to his feet, Steve is almost fully dressed. His shirt is unbuttoned, his pants zipped up, the button loose. He stares at Vince intently, before handing him his pants. 

"Heart and soul, huh?" Vince says. 

"Heart and soul," Steve agrees. 

And, really, those three words are enough, Vince realizes as he tugs on his pants. "I'll grab you a cloth." 

After they're cleaned up, Steve glances at his watch. "I should get going." 

Vince walks Steve to the entrance, and tugs the door open. "Thanks." 

Steve smiles. "Anytime." He slides a finger down Vince's cheek. "You've got my number." 

"I do."


End file.
